Wings
by GemmaNye
Summary: One night, when an Angel and a Demon are getting particularly tipsy, one of them comes up with an idea, and that night, they both discover things about themselves and eachother which mean that neither of them will ever be the same (Fluff, oneshot, based on fanart but I swapped the characters because cuteness - I apologise for nothing).


After the minor hiccup that was the Armageddon't, forces both earthly and cosmic made an unspoken agreement to pretend it never _really _happened, and in fact had been an elaborate hoax by some kid in America who now likely had a job at Google (if only all problems could be solved by fomenting worldwide discourse).

As such, life in London was very much back to normal, complete with all the buskers, extortionate parking charges and commuters shoving each other down escalators as you would expect in any modern city. However, London was unique in one key detail, and that was the slightly tipsy Angel and Demon who were sat quite pleasantly in the back room of the Angel's bookshop, passing a bottle of 1927 Montoya Cabernet between them.

"I'm not kidding Aziraphale, really" Crowley turned to look at his companion, his yellow serpentine eyes giving him a bemused glare as he took a swig of the bottle, before handing it over "I have seen vultures- no, yeah- _vultures _that have been dragged backwards through a _rosebush-" _he was enunciating every syllable with his index finger and thumb pressed together.

"I do think you have made your point"

"Oh no no no, Aziraphale, I haven't even started yet"

"They're really not that bad, dear"

"Just let me-"

"No," Aziraphale was uncharacteristicly sharp "no offence, but I wouldn't let you touch my wings with a barge pole"

This had the opposite effect that he was going for, as Crowley put his head back and laughed heartily, and soon the Angel couldn't help himself and began to chuckle politely.

After the pair had calmed down, Crowley gestured for the wine again, shifting his weight on the painfully stiff wooden floor he was sat on, facing the Angel who was reclined on a plush couch. The pair couldn't be bothered to keep up appearances so their wings were spread comfortably in the large back room. He took another swig from the bottle and placed it on the floor beside him.

They both felt the atmosphere change, becoming more intense and sincere, and Aziraphale regarded his friend. He had always been the type to make light of things, to make a sarcastic observation or a silly wisecrack, but it was as if he had nothing to say. And this sort of tension between them - it felt wrong, foreign, especially whilst the pair were getting steadily more inebriated.

At last, Crowley looked up at him sombrely, making Aziraphale feel slightly giddy under his gaze.

"But really" The Demon began, his eyebrows rising slightly "can I?"

"Alright" he said breathily, unsure if he realised quite what he was agreeing to.

Aziraphale exhaled slowly, his breath catching in his throat when Crowley patted the floor in front of him, encouraging the Angel to take a seat. Aziraphale had never been fully comfortable with physical contact, although he was getting slowly better over the millennia, especially when Crowley was concerned. But no amount of time could prepare him for this. He got to his feet slowly (if not a little unsteadily due to the drink) and knelt down onto the dusty floor, his back to Crowley.

Aziraphale's sharp intake of breath when the Demon's dexterous fingers first touched his wings was tangible in the musty air of the bookshop, and made Crowley immediately freeze.

"I can stop if you want" he said quietly, his voice sincere.

"No, I... I want you to" Aziraphale spoke truthfully, relishing Crowley's familiar touch, as if discovering it for the first time.

Without speaking, the Demon got to work, his fingers moving deliberately and with care as he plucked Aziraphale's fluffy feathers away, smoothing others down so that as he worked, the Angel's wings became sleek and shiny.

The tension in the large back room began to melt as Aziraphale leaned into Crowley's touch, an inexplicable feeling of serenity washing over him. The only worry that persisted in the back of his mind was that this experience would soon end. He was too self-conscious to look over his shoulder at the Demon, just in case he saw a look of boredom or regret, but of all the emotions running through his mind, they were definitely at the very back of his consciousness.

Crowley was almost beside himself. He had craved this absolute tranquility, this intimacy with another being for his entire existence, and now he was sharing this moment with Aziraphale, whose eyes were closed as he melted into his touch. Crowley was sure to work as slowly as possible, breathing heavily but silently as he tidied each of the Angel's feathers. Aziraphale exhaled blissfully, drowning the Demon in his delicious scent, which made Crowley slightly angry - _did he not know how debilitating that was? _He continued nevertheless, severely distracted by the sensations and emotions coursing through him.

After what seemed like both an eternity and just a moment, Crowley had finished the job, and Aziraphale's wings were blindingly white and glorious to behold. Not since Creation had the Angel's wings looked quite this pristine, and not since Creation had Aziraphale been this separated from his earthly worries.

His expression was peaceful and serene, and he was lying flush with Crowley's chest, which seemed to be perfectly suited for him. To an outsider, he would have seemed asleep, or perhaps even dead, but Crowley knew, he was preserving this moment for as long as possible, and had merely forgotten to breathe for the last ten minutes.

The Demon had his long arms wrapped around the Angel's shoulders, and was perfectly content with Aziraphale resting his head against his shoulder. Never before had either one of them experienced anything like this - the feeling of perfect alignment with another being, the sensation that they were in a bubble, in a separate universe from the Bentley, the M25, the bookshop. Right now it was just Aziraphale and Crowley against the world. They were on their own side, and they were enjoying it very much.

Then, Aziraphale, in an act that was incredibly out of character, turned to face the Demon, and pressed his lips softly against his. Crowley didn't recoil, and didn't really even feel shocked, instead he sunk into the kiss, tenderly placing a hand on the back of the Angel's head, holding him in place. It just felt so natural between them, as if this were the only thing either of them had ever thought about, and this was the first time they could act on it.

The kiss lasted for a long while, getting deeper and stronger as neither of them bothered to come up for air. When they finally broke apart, their eyes made contact, their expressions sincere and profound. It was as if they were truly looking at each other for the first time.

"I love you, Crowley" he breathed, smiling slightly.

"I've always loved you, Angel"

**The End**

**Authors note: OMFG I can't even - I was going to make this a lot more cutesy and fun, but I was digging this whole _sexual tension _vibe. Hope you enjoyed and don't forget to favourite the story and comment and stuff - really motivates me to write more. Thanks for reading - Gemma x**


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